


A Bit Oblivious

by FandomsAreMyFuel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cross-Posted on Wattpad, I wrote this one on Halloween, If you don't like horror movies don't read I guess, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, One-Shot, i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:21:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24264271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomsAreMyFuel/pseuds/FandomsAreMyFuel
Summary: "This feels... spooky." Aziraphale murmured."Well, you know me, I like spooky.""Oh yes," Aziraphale turned to the demon, eyes widened, "'Big spooky fan me,'" He quoted. Crowley's smirk grew wider.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	A Bit Oblivious

"You said we have to go where?" Crowley flipped over. He popped up from his draped position. A certain one could imagine a silk blanket would emulate, just slipping from the sofa's armrest and before it would hit the ground, it would hang silently from its own feet. It would dangle with its head down, tucking along the sofa's cushy curve.

Aziraphale fumbled with his mixed selection of books he was sorting. Bringing out a narrow slip of paper. "A nice dainty place up north," Aziraphale paused, tilting his head to the left, pursing his lips. "I do believe around Manchester," Aziraphale said.

"And why do we need to go up there?" Crowley crossed his legs at his ankles, watching his shoes as he tapped the toe of his right shoe to the left one. He smirked at the old-fashioned sofa that inhabited the backroom of A.Z. Fell and Co., Antiquarian and Unusual Books.

True to be told, it was because a young lad's grandmother had just passed away. Hearing about the bookshop, Aziraphale was called as the grandmother had a well-aged book that had been passed down for generations. It was rather because the young man was not confident in his skills in taking care of a piece of history so old. It was evident Aziraphale had said yes.

"Ah..." Aziraphale slinked back a step, "Well..." He did an action between a squirm and a wriggle. 

Crowley stared at Aziraphale with his mouth zipped shut or else he would've burst out laughing at Aziraphale's little wiggle. "Nah, we're going," Crowley said as he hopped up whilst rolling from the armrest.

"Ah, thank you," Aziraphale said, picking up the books to set them on a shelf. When he turned around, he noted the black Bentley in front of the store and leaning on it was a certain demon with sunglasses on. "Oh," He blurted out and rushed to the front of the store, hearing the door and a flurry of miracles behind him.

The Bentley roared on the road just about to enter Manchester

"Crowley!" Aziraphale gripped the seat.

"Sorry, angel!" Crowley coughed out, turning the wheel right and howling a "piss off!" at an abominable and _unholy_ driver at their left. "Are you ever going to tell me who this guy is?"

"Seems like a nice man. He did send a _very_ nice looking letter," Aziraphale said. 

"No email, then?" Crowley took a glance at his angel that fumble with the slip of paper. "Did you cut it out?"

"Oh, no... they wrote it for me and specifically put it in the envelope!" Aziraphale smiled at the demon and then urged him to keep looking forwards.

Crowley was honestly, and more honest than most demons, a bit skeptical for his dear Aziraphale as he hadn't seen an "honest-to-God" letter in more than a decade. The closest thing was those bills he would simply miracle away. He did know Aziraphale's love of an old-fashioned letter that had beautiful cursive and the fresh smell of beige printed paper. That being the reason Crowley's handwriting was now somewhat decent. 

"We're here," Crowley said, hopping out the right side as Aziraphale slid out the other. "Doesn't look too bad," He muttered from the half-open car door.

"Well, would that be good or bad?" Aziraphale asked while marching the few steps before him gingerly. Crowley followed with his usual gait which had his hips swinging. "I mean, by your standards," Aziraphale swiftly knocked on the door and stepped back. Crowley shrugged.

The few seconds that passed with silence were the few seconds Crowley narrowed his snake eyes and opened the door.

"Oh," Was all Aziraphale said.

Crowley tipped his head towards the red door that he'd opened. Before Aziraphale went in, put on a stern face, as if chastising a child. "Get thee behind me, foul fiend," He grinned, it was the same sweet smile he had given Crowley on the day Armageddon had finally ceased. Aziraphale then gestured to the door, "After you."

Crowley nearly threw back his head and laughed. Instead, he smirked. 

As he recovered, they noticed how big the house they just stepped into was. 

"This feels... spooky." Aziraphale murmured.

"Well, you know me, I like spooky."

"Oh yes," Aziraphale turned to the demon, eyes widened, "'Big spooky fan me,'" He quoted. Crowley's smirk grew wider.

"You said it's... _spooky_." 

The angel nodded slowly. "Yes, as if it is... unloved," Aziraphale answered solemnly. They traveled a bit inside, Aziraphale nearly jumping out his wits when he saw the arm on the ground. "Oh dear," He whispered, shuffling near Crowley, who had just narrowed his eyes. They knocked around on doors, saying, "hello? Anybody there?" everywhere they went.

Aziraphale pressed against Crowley as he saw the leg and torso on the floor. Before them was a cleaned room, black ran on all of the porcelain-smooth, tile walls and the only thing that was colored was the white dishes on the table. Both of them ignored the overbearing smell of heavy disinfectant and candles.

"Unpleasant to say at the least," Aziraphale murmured as he glanced around the room and stood close to Crowley who was doing the same, most likely not out of fear but to comfort his angel.

Crowley paused. "Do'ya think this is prank?"

"Why me of all people?" Aziraphale said, now leaning a bit to take a good look at the half of a hand on the kitchen floor. "Why the frozen limbs?"

"No idea." Crowley sauntered towards the front and saw a note taped on the door which told him the book was in the attic. Crowley nearly ripped it to pieces right there.

"I think since it's autumn..." Aziraphale muttered and watched Crowley gaze at the surrounds.

"Are we taking our chances?"

"What do you mean?" Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows.

In response, Crowley raised an eyebrow instead, "As in, we probably don't want to die..." Crowley scowled. "Inconveniently disincorporate," He corrected.

"Well, it is getting to All Hallow's Eve, so I do think we'll be... okay," Aziraphale said.

"If we die, I'm complaining to Beezelbub."

"She'll enjoy that," Aziraphale replied.

"Honest, angel. Do you want to go?" Crowley turned to Aziraphale. For a moment, they understood each other's worry and loving eyes for each other. Then, for another moment, Crowley turned around and threw open the door to the attic and climbed in. "That's blood," His voice echoed through the room and back down the ladder.

"Fake? Real?" Aziraphale asked.

"Beats me," Crowley said, throwing the book down into his friend's arms before he stepped down.

"Crowley, do houses usually have men with masks on... holding axes in them?" Aziraphale asked.

"And I'm an aardvark," Crowley said.

Aziraphale stared at the man. "Crowley, I don't think they want to talk."

Crowley stared at the man. "Piss off." He said.

The man stared and turned around, walking away with a confused expression.

That day nothing was learned and nobody knew what happened.


End file.
